Developer's Roast Is Hollywood's Toast

'ROUND TOWN - THE LIGHTER SIDE OF THE NEWS

Downtown developer Jerry Mintz's recent roast of Commissioner John Coleman has some people suggesting the businessman should open a comedy club on Harrison Street.

Coleman offered himself up as the butt of jokes to raise money for the city's Democratic Club.

Mintz had to be lobbied hard to agree to roast Coleman. He at first resisted, saying he had never roasted anyone.

But he ended up stealing the show with his stand-up routine and got rave reviews from the audience.

Other roasters included former State Rep. Fred Lippman, D-Hollywood; Mitch Ceasar, chairman of the Broward County and state Democratic parties; and Hollywood activist and commission critic Pete Brewer.

Brewer agreed to step in on short notice when Becker & Poliakoff lawyer and frequent commission lobbyist Alan Koslow withdrew from the list of roasters.

Coleman's event was scheduled just days after he launched a perfectly serious roast of how Koslow and his B&P colleague Bernie Friedman behave at City Hall.

Koslow said there are no hard feelings. "The firm bought a table at the roast, but we were unable to attend," he said. "We told them to give our food to the homeless."

The city of Hollywood prides itself on clean water and its state-of-the-art reverse-osmosis membrane plant, which city officials say makes the water taste so good.

To prove the point, public relations Director Arlene Allen set up the "Water Challenge," fashioned after the "Pepsi Challenge" that was conducted in the 1980s.

Hollywood residents who participated were asked to drink water from two unmarked glasses. One was Hollywood tap water and the other was bottled water.

Allen said eight of 12 residents could not tell the difference.

Allen said she ran the tests, which were filmed, so she could use the footage for Hollywood Forum, the city show produced by city employees. Allen is host of the show.

Rosen on Monday asked civic leader Joel Fass to open the City Commission meeting by leading the gathered multitude -- about 50 people -- in the pledge to the flag.

With his hand over his heart, Fass began, "I pledge allegiance ..."

Then he stopped. There was no flag to pledge his allegiance to. It wasn't in its usual stand in the front of the grand ballroom of the Weston Hills Country Club, where the city conducts meetings.

"Where is it?" asked someone in the audience, hand still over his heart.

"It's missing," said another, lowering her hand.

Someone ran into a storeroom at the front of the room.

No flag.

No matter.

It's the thought that counts.

Fass put his hand back over his heart, faced the spot where Old Glory normally hangs and began again.

It won't happen again, City Manager John Flint vows.

The city will have a picture of the flag loaded into its laptop computer. If country club employees again forget, the city will project the picture on the front wall, where it usually shows the agenda.

Then everyone can pledge to a computerized flag.

"If it's not there physically, it will be there electronically," Flint said.